


like the ceiling can't hold us

by sabinelagrande



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: And In Public Even!, Dirty Talk, Everyone Is Poly Because Avengers, F/M, Lots of Mentioned Pairings, M/M, Multi, Sexual Fantasy, Slut Pride, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-08
Updated: 2013-03-10
Packaged: 2017-12-04 15:59:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/712495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabinelagrande/pseuds/sabinelagrande
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stuck at a ridiculously boring party. Nothing to do but talk. At least, that's how it starts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The party is boring. The party is interminable. Natasha has circulated, been congratulated, now made her way to the wall, parked next to a high table, twirling her martini glass idly by the stem. She thinks boredly about all the things she could be doing right now, how she could best escape this room using only the tablecloth and the stiletto strapped to her thigh underneath her evening gown.

Well, not only. There's a candle and the glass, too. That makes it almost too easy to be fun.

Phil detaches himself from the crowd, coming to stand at the small table with her. "What's new?" Natasha says, setting down the martini glass.

"This party is intensely boring," Phil says, forcing a smile.

"Not new," she tells him.

"The late-breaking story is that another tell-all about Captain America and the USO girls is coming out," he says. "This one has orgies, I'm led to believe."

Natasha just rolls her eyes. "And what news is there about me?" she asks playfully, amused at the thought of what his answer will be, how this will turn out.

He delicately brushes a curl away from her ear, leaning close to speak softly into it. "I'm pretty sure they think the team passes you around like a joint."

Natasha hums. "A girl can dream."

Phil glances up, and Natasha doesn't move. His posture changes, his spine straightening. He looks now like he's giving her a threat assessment, that he's boring old Coulson, milquetoast secret agent, only special skill not giving a fuck. The only problem is the look on his face, the I've-got-your-number smile, the one that makes her want to tackle him to the floor and ride him hard. "Is that what you want, Natasha?" he says, in a perfectly level, perfectly reasonable voice. "Tell me, who haven't you fucked? Stark? I know he and Pepper like a third. Or a fourth."

She draws herself up to her full height, crossing her arms, adjusting her shawl. She sets her mouth in an unhappy line, but her eyes say something completely different. "Scheduling conflict."

"That's a damn shame," he says; now he's frowning, aping disapproval. "Though you do have to look out for reactor marks."

"Do you speak from experience, Phillip?" she says, letting her tongue roll over the syllables of his name.

"Could be, could be," he says noncommittally, which Natasha takes for the resounding 'yes' it is. "You don't have to tell me about Clint."

"Well, you were there for at least part of it," she says, letting her face grow more annoyed. "I hear you're the one to ask about the Hammer of the Gods, though."

"Well, they say it was forged in the heart of a dying star," Phil says, deadpan. "But if you're asking if Thor's a good lay, I have to say yes."

"When he's had that many centuries to learn, he better be," Natasha says.

"And with Banner AWOL, that leaves the Captain," he says. "And don't even tell me-"

"Mmm, twice," she says, almost breaking character as she replays the memory. "God bless America."

Phil swallows, barely perceptible. He leans forward, giving off his best I-will-end-you vibes, the illusion good enough that Natasha's pulse quickens. "I want to fuck you across this table right now."

"That is the only thing that would make this party bearable," she says, scowling, giving it right back. By now anyone watching this must be more than a little uncomfortable; Natasha's getting a little uncomfortable herself, but that has to do with the wetness between her thighs, the way it's making her panties cling.

"I get this impression that it wouldn't be enough for you," Phil says, at the height of his imaginary rage, his voice dropped into a low, dangerous tone. "I have this feeling that you'd be a lot happier if you were on your back for everybody. You just want everybody to line up one by one to fuck you. You won't be satisfied until you've had every one of us in your mouth and your pussy and your ass."

Natasha puts her hand flat on the table, leaning towards him, pure anger flashing in her eyes. "You forgot about Pepper."

"I was counting Pepper," he assures her, narrowing his eyes. "Trust me, you haven't seen that woman work a strap-on."

Natasha can feel someone walk up behind her, but Phil's expression says clearly who it is, even through his mask of anger. "Jesus, you guys," Clint says when he joins them, giving them both equally concerned, disapproving, utterly fake looks, putting a hand on Phil's chest like he's about to separate them before they can go for each other. "Get a room."

"Come with us," Natasha says, nostrils flaring.

"See you outside in twenty," he tells her, and Natasha walks away from them, playing out her false breaking point. Finally there's an end in sight, though they will be twenty incredibly long minutes. Then it will take ten more torturously slow ones for them to get back to the Tower, one hundred-eighty eternal seconds to call the elevator, take it to her floor, and get them into the bedroom. In thirty-four minutes she better have somebody's dick inside her, or this party has in no way been worth it.

She catches Phil's eye from across the room, and he nods at her, just once, taking a drink of scotch. She doesn't really think it's going to be a problem.


	2. Chapter 2

Clint's the one she shoves onto the bed, watching as he undoes his pants; Clint's the one who's malleable, so easy, the one who's happy to beg for it as long as it means he gets fucked. On this one issue, she doesn't understand him like she understands Phil, Phil who gets that, on some cosmic level, there is a score being kept, that winning always matters.

She strips out of her evening gown, letting the overpriced material pool on the floor and kicking it away. Clint's barely managed to push his pants down his thighs, distracted by the way Phil is kissing him, stroking his cock to get it ready for her. She pulls Phil away by his shoulder, kissing Clint firmly before she turns, letting Phil help guide Clint's cock up into her from behind. Phil's fingers find her clit, toying with her as she starts to ride.

Natasha grabs him by the tie, pulling him down and kissing him. "Take your fucking pants off."

Phil smiles at her, the self-satisfied one that shouldn't be hot and is. He skips over whatever witty quip would be most apt for this situation, which suits Natasha fine. He can quip all he wants when she's got him where she wants him, but right now it would be a waste of everybody's time.

He lets his pants drop around his ankles, shoving his boxer briefs down with them, and Natasha pulls him in by the thigh, wrapping her hand around his cock and sucking him down. This is so much better than that party that they're not even on the same scales of measurement. It's ridiculous to even start trying to compare standing around with people she doesn't like in uncomfortable shoes to being here like this, two hard cocks inside of her, hot and insistent, ready to fuck her however she wants, use her just like she wants to be used.

She can't hold it back any longer, unable to stop from coming after everything that's happened, all that talk, that need, so she doesn't. She bucks hard against Clint, feeling it snatch her, drag her down, the tense-and-release of it so goddamn good that she shakes, clutching at Phil's thigh for dear life, sucking hard on his cock as it overtakes her.

Clint makes a desperate noise, his rough hands on her hips as he fucks up into her, short strokes that she can feel in her whole body, and it's threatening to come up over her again, overtake her senses. She moves her head faster, urging Phil on, trying to make him come for her; she doesn't know whose win that would make it, but she's happy to call it a draw.

It's easy this time, so easy to come around Clint's cock, and he's right with her, swearing as he empties himself into her, his cock as deep in her as he can possibly get it. "Shit," Phil says through his teeth, gone just watching the two of them.

"Come on," Clint says, breathless. "Come on, Phil, give it up. Come for the nice lady."

Phil bites his lip when he finally does it, and Natasha swallows him down without a second thought. She takes every drop he has, licking him clean until he makes a slightly pained noise, moving out of her grasp. Natasha smiles lazily at him, licking her lips, and he leans down and kisses her, long and slow, taking his sweet time before he pulls away.

Clint surprises her, manhandling her back onto the bed so he can wrap his arms around her, cuddle up to her in that way he never gets tired of doing. Phil pulls up his underwear and kicks his pants away before joining them, turned towards Natasha, on her other side. She's still in her bra, the garter with her stiletto still strapped to her thigh, but other than that she's winning the award for most naked. She doesn't mind, though. There's something decadent about it, laid out between two polished men that she's just thoroughly tarnished.

"We could probably make it work," Phil says after a long, satisfied silence, smoothing a hand over her stomach.

"Hmm?" Natasha asks, momentarily distracted thinking about how soon she can manage to get one or both of them hard again.

"You," Phil says, "as many people as you want. I don't know that we should go around with a signup sheet, but people can be persuaded to do things they want with relative ease."

"What are you talking about?" Clint asks, frowning.

"Gangbang," Natasha says.

Clint puts his arm over his eyes. "Are you guys on some kind of mission to fuck the entire world?"

"Only parts of it," Phil says, and Natasha snorts in amusement.

"Well, as long as you keep me on the mailing list," Clint says, shaking his head.

Natasha kisses him. "We'll be sure to keep you up to date on all the latest developments."


	3. Chapter 3

Thank God Thor has learned the concept of an inside voice, because Phil can only catch him at HQ, which isn't the most apt place to invite someone to an orgy. When asked, he claps his hand on Phil's shoulder and says something about how he's grateful for this fine honor, glad to bestow his mighty seed upon such a deserving warrior, and Phil wonders how the hell you give a Norse god a safe sex talk.

He decides that's Natasha's responsibility. Her party, her problem.

\--

"Head says it works," Natasha says, as they ride the elevator up to Steve's apartment.

Phil raises an eyebrow at her. "I'd give you head anyway."

"Then you have nothing to lose," she points out. Phil just shakes his head, holding out an arm as the elevator doors open. Steve's expecting them, invited them in fact, though he has no idea what they're planning for him. He thinks they're going to have some coffee and- Phil has no idea, talk about life or something.

They do actually talk about life for a while, or at least about baseball, which is essentially the same thing. Natasha is an expert at acting interested, but she reaches her limit eventually, cutting to the heart of the matter by swinging a leg over Steve's thighs, kissing him firmly as she straddles him. Steve makes a soft noise of surprise, but he doesn't push her away, melting as she pushes him back against the couch.

They finally part, and Steve looks at her in concern. "Should we be acting this way in front of Phil?" he says, very quietly, stilling her with a hand on her waist.

She kisses him again. "Phil doesn't mind, do you, Phil?" Natasha says, turning away from Steve.

Phil slides his hand up her thigh. "Not at all."

Steve looks at them both with wide eyes, like he's suddenly cottoned on to what's happening. "Oh," he says softly.

"We can leave if you want," Natasha says, smoothing a hand over his hair. "Either of us. Both of us. It's all up to you."

Steve surprises the absolute hell out of both of them by reaching over and cupping Phil's face, pulling him in and kissing him gently. "Okay," he says. "Okay."

It's not much of a shock that Steve likes it slow, quiet, bodies moving together smoothly and seamlessly; he lets Phil and Natasha move him around, guide him. He puts his face down against the bed as Phil fucks him, moaning low, clutching at the bedsheets. Natasha traces her hands over his back, soothing him, giving Phil a grin while he can't see. Phil matches it, moving a little faster; Steve's tight and so hot and Phil's not going to last long like this, especially not when Steve's moving now, making little desperate noises as he fucks himself on Phil's cock.

Phil doesn't quite make it, doesn't manage to hold out; Steve makes this sound and moves in just the right way and Phil comes, fingers digging into his skin. It's okay, it's just right, because Steve barely has time to make a noise of loss before Natasha is slipping a condom onto him and dragging him in. He groans as she takes him inside of her, kissing his neck as she wraps her legs around his waist. Phil throws away the other condom and sits down beside her, watching as he fucks her. He looks overcome, lost, and Phil can't help but kiss him, a hand on his neck to calm him.

He only pulls away when Natasha starts making those noises that say she's so close, the ones that he loves the most; he leans down and sucks her nipple into his mouth, nipping at her, urging her on. His hand slides down to where she and Steve join, stroking her clit, and she comes loudly, her hand grabbing for Phil's. Steve is right after her, pushing into her deep as he does it, sounding wrecked.

He eases out of her, pausing to get cleaned up before he comes back and puts his arms around her, resting her head on his shoulder. There's a long, sated silence, nothing particularly needing to get said right at the moment, nothing as important as just laying there and feeling.

"We've got something we want to talk to you about," Natasha says finally, rolling towards him, her fingers tracing patterns on his hip. Phil kisses the back of her neck, letting her take the lead on this one. Natasha can talk anyone into anything; what they did was probably completely unnecessary in terms of buttering him up or making a point.

It was completely necessary in every other way.

"You owe me head," Natasha says, hours later, as they walk down the steps leading out of the building.

"Never took the bet," Phil reminds her.

"Are you saying you won't give me head?" she asks.

He slides on his sunglasses. "That's _definitely_ not what I said."

\--

Tony, of all people, is the one who presents the real hurdle.

"Are you sure she wants to do this?" he asks, looking at him warily. "Are you absolutely sure about that?"

Phil does him the courtesy of not looking at him like he's fucking crazy. "You have my assurance that she's definitely looking forward to it."

He seems appeased by this, but not entirely. "I don't know if-"

"Tony," Pepper says from the monitor, voice carefully lowered and earbuds in, still looking nervously around like someone on the jet is going to hear her. "It's fine."

"Well, I know it's fine with _you_ ," he says.

Phil takes out his cell phone, dialing Natasha's number. "Here," he says, holding it out to Tony, who takes it like the lack of technical advancement of Phil's two-month-old cell phone is personally offensive.

"Nat?" Tony says into it. "Of course I call you Nat. Just not to your face. Nat, Phil says you want us to bang you." There's a pause. "Uh huh. No, just checking. And you're sure about that?" Pause. "You've thought about this?" Pause, longer this time. "You've thought about this. Alright. Bye." He hangs up, handing the phone back to Phil.

"I'm not going to sleep with you for a month if you keep us from doing this," Pepper tells Tony, before he can temporize any longer.

Tony gives her a look. "I'm sorry, did you just threaten to withhold sex if I don't help gangbang another woman?"

"Yeah," she challenges, though she's turning a little pink. "What are you going to do about it?"

He turns back to Phil. "Unless this is some weird fever dream I'm having, I guess we're in."

"Your cooperation is appreciated, Mister Stark," Phil says, completely straight-faced and serious.

"You just love fucking with me, don't you?" Tony replies.

"I consider it a benefit of my job," he says.

"That and having sex with a bunch of superheroes," Tony counters.

"That's a benefit of being so damn handsome," Phil tells him, shaking his head, and Tony laughs in surprise.

\--

Clint is in Phil's bed when he gets back to it; he's naked, but he's passed out, drooling slightly onto Phil's spare pillow. He makes an indistinct sound when Phil slips in behind him, something that might be Phil's name.

"Hey," Phil says, and Clint turns, pressing himself up against Phil full-length, his hand on Phil's ass. "Thought you'd just show up and ambush me?"

"Thought I'd just show up and you'd fuck me," Clint says, voice rough from sleep. "Even got ready. Then you didn't show, so I went to sleep."

"In my bed?"

"Figured you'd turn up eventually," he says, unrepentant. "That and your mattress is way nicer than mine."

"Get on your stomach," Phil says, reaching over to the nightstand, where Clint has thoughtfully left a condom and lube. He rolls on the condom, sliding two fingers into Clint's ass; he wasn't lying about being ready, but Phil adds more lube to be on the safe side, just so that it's that much smoother as he pushes inside, fucking Clint quick and hard. Clint moans, hand underneath himself to jack his cock. He comes in no time; it's very obvious that he's been wound up tight waiting for this, just dying for it. Phil holds him down and fucks him harder, finally coming with a groan, letting Clint's back take his weight.

"It's on, by the way," Phil says, once they've cleaned up and settled in to sleep.

Clint yawns. "Hmm?"

"Gangbang," Phil clarifies.

"People have got to stop answering my questions like that," Clint says.

"Would you prefer complete sentences?" Phil asks.

"It's just a jarring word to hear out of nowhere," Clint tells him, putting an arm around his waist.

"I'll give you that," Phil says, kissing him so that he'll shut up. 

Well. Maybe for other reasons as well.


End file.
